Blurred Lines And Broken Promises
by r3tro Roxel
Summary: Some scars never heal. Sequel to I Will Not Be Clumsy. Russia/Lithuania


Hey, everyone. Long time no update, yeah? Well, here's a nice little treat for all you Russia/Lithuania fans - a sequel to the not-so-highly-acclaimed I Will Not Be Clumsy. Enjoy.

* * *

**Blurred Lines And Broken Promises**

**Размытые линии и невыполненных обещаний**

The sudden sound of shattering glass snapped Lithuania from his murky thoughts, and he looked up, his vision partially obscured by a cloak of red leaking from a particularly deep gash above his right eye.

Above him stood Russia, an empty smile painted upon his face – one that did not reach his violet eyes. Beneath Russia's boot there came a quiet crunching sound, his toe digging into the shards of glass from the freshly broken vodka bottle he had been drinking from before, grinding them to powder.

Numbly, Lithuania's mind flitted back to an earlier incident – one that had left the carved words of 'I will not be clumsy' upon his back in dark streams of crimson. However, of course, new wounds disguised those words now, for he could feel the blood down his back, which had been kissed roughly and striped scarlet by the leather nine tails clasped within Russia's stained, gloved hand.

There had been glass that time, he remembered. Broken plates for which he had been rightfully punished, the scars were still upon his feet from when he had been forced to tread upon their shimmering remains. He gave a quiet, humorless chuckle as he brushed both strands of blood-caked hair and rivulets of scarlet from his eyes – what would be his punishment this time?

"Lithuania…" Russia murmured, his steel-toed boot still working at the glass, the quiet sound of glass against wood grating loudly upon Lithuania's aching head – he had lost count of how many times that night he had discovered a hand wound within his locks and a wall quickly coming to meet his face; that was how he got the wound above his eye.

He could barely remember what it was he had done wrong, if anything at all. The boundary between obedience and rebellion was a blurry one in Russia's already murky purple eyes, which were clouded by trauma and worsened with alcohol. His head injuries helped the matter of remembering anything none.

"Can you be a good boy for once and do a favor for me…?" The larger nation asked innocently, toe still grinding the vodka bottle's shattered remains. Lithuania shivered, the noise acting like a terrible, foreboding metronome of sorts, grating upon his every nerve. The other's question was obviously rhetorical – Lithuania would do whatever Russia said, without question. He knew rebelling would only make it worse.

At long last, Russia removed his boot from the shards, all now reduced to a glimmering powder. For one brief moment, as Lithuania stared at it through a screen of hair matted with blood, he thought it almost looked like the snow collecting in beautiful, billowing heaps outside of Russia's window. Immediately, he regretted this thought.

"Eat it." The blond said simply, his voice laden with persuasion and suggestion, as though it were merely a morsel of food the other was simply reluctant to try – and in a way, it was. Lithuania shuddered heavily at the Russian's words, but knew he could not disobey.

With trembling hands, he reached out to scoop up some of the dust-like glass into his palms, the tiny shards making minuscule, yet stingingly painful, cuts upon his hands. His emerald eyes flitted up to meet Russia's violet gaze. His face was devoid of emotion, yet there was a sick smile upon his face, one laden with feigned innocence and reeking of a rotting corpse of a mind underneath it all. Lithuania hated it. Fake, it was all so sickeningly fake. Yet, he knew that Russia could do nothing to prevent it – his mind was shattered just the same as what used to be a vodka bottle within Lithuania's cupped hands.

Slowly, he brought the glass to his lips, hesitating. His uncertainty was immediately caught by the Russian, who snapped, "Eat it." How could he refuse? Lithuania closed his eyes tightly shut, struggling to keep the horrible tears from escaping him, for the tears proved he was weak, proved that everything Russia did to him tore him apart.

He never wished to admit to himself that he had lost all self-identity, lost everything that made him _him_, and lost all hope. Admitting that was the last thing Lithuania wished to do, for if he admitted that to himself, he knew there would be nothing he could do to change his own mind.

He tilted his head back, opening his mouth to catch the shards as they trickled past his lips and began to creep down his throat, the glass nicking at his palms and bringing flecks of blood to the exposed air and giving the pale, sweaty skin a crimson sheen.

Immediately, he began to choke, the glass catching upon his tongue, the inside of his mouth, and tearing at his throat as it went down, the familiar, metallic taste of blood soon upon his lips. Tentatively, he opened his watery eyes to look at Russia, seeking approval, the horrible stinging powder causing him to give coughs that made Lithuania feel as though his whole body was being wracked by them.

"Good boy…" The Russian whispered, giving his dry lips a gentle lick. Lithuania shivered, trying his hardest to ignore the gleam in the other's eye and the trickle of blood sneaking its way down his chin.

Leaning down, Russia wrapped a rust-colored, gloved hand around the younger nation's neck, squeezing tightly as he lapped the blood from Lithuania's chin, stopping momentarily to bite roughly at the other's already abused lips. The brunette gave a violent shudder, the hand around his neck making the glass cut deeper, the pain worsening, and he gave a strangled cry.

Still smiling, Russia pulled back, his hands going to his waist as he stood up. Lithuania's gaze immediately went to the floor, thick, wet coughs rocking his scarred body as he trembled, the sound of a rattling belt buckle, a zipper, and then the rustle of cloth loud within his ears. He didn't want to look at Russia exposed until he was forced to.

Once more, the familiar feeling of a hand within his hair was upon him, and his face was brought forward. He squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut, his breaths coming out in ragged bursts, his tongue, punctured by the horrible, glittering powder, darting out to lick at his torn lips.

"Suck." Came the whispered command, one Lithuania was much too used to hearing. Tentatively, he opened his teary, emerald eyes, grateful for the tears for once, for they blurred the image of the other's nudity before him.

Gently, he wound his hand around the base, feeling Russia shudder appreciatively beneath his touch. He leaned forward slowly, lips taking their time as they encased the tip, - for the glass was cutting them both, their mutual wounds leaking blood – not wanting to start off with anything more than he could handle.

Suddenly, the pain increased tenfold as the hand wound within his brown locks tightened its grip and forced him forward. Choking on both Russia's erection and the blood welling up within his throat, Lithuania gave a helpless cry.

Giving a pleasurable sigh, the Russian forced the other's head back, his lips still encased unwillingly around him, before shoving himself back in, relishing the feel of both Lithuania's lips and the glass within the brunette's mouth nicking and tearing at the sensitive organ. He repeated this motion, this forced thrusting, his mind seeking not the other's enjoyment, solely his own.

Lithuania began to cry as the horrible feel of Russia's member, slick with blood, sweat, and pre-cum, was shoved within his mouth, forcing him to deepthroat, and causing the glass to grate against his flesh, bile threatening to rise up within his already flooded throat.

Unknowingly, he dug his teeth into the other's skin, eliciting a quiet moan. Above him, Russia's face was twisted in sick ecstasy, his hand working almost mindlessly at controlling the unceremonious favor being performed upon him.

He knew Russia was close when his thrusts increased, moving Lithuania's head roughly enough that the brunette could have easily been fooled at that moment into thinking he was once more having his skull beaten against the wall. He was choking, gasping for air, anything to rid the horrible, slick taste and feel of blood and sex within his mouth. His eyes were pleading, begging for Russia to stop. But, he knew that would not happen until the other was satisfied.

With one last, forceful thrust, Russia finally came, his seed spilling into Lithuania's throat, the younger nation fighting back the urge to vomit at the combined tastes within him. Thankfully, the blond removed himself then, a string of pinkish semen, stained with blood, connecting Lithuania's swollen lips to the head of his shaft.

Eagerly, Lithuania choked and gasped for air, giving dry heaves as he doubled over with pain, disgusting trails of blood-mingled saliva dripping from his mouth to the floor. Sobs escaped him as well, tears having been flowing down his cheeks for the entire duration of his forced ministrations, for he didn't want to admit that part of him had enjoyed every moment of that.

Russia was still smiling as he zipped himself up, relishing the site of Lithuania broken before him. At this time, the brunette had begun to retch, trying to rid himself of the lingering tastes, the tearing, scratching glass, his throat wet and clogged with blood and cum.

Breathing was becoming very difficult, for still the shards ripped at his flesh, and between his efforts at purging, he would cough thickly, wet droplets of crimson leaking out to stain both his lips and the floor beneath him.

"Good boy…" Russia murmured, his eyes drinking in the sight of the other not unlike the manner in which he had been drinking vodka earlier that night.

"Now, Lithuania… Look at me. Look at me and promise…" The blond whispered, kneeling down to cup the other's bruised and bloodied face with surprising tenderness, his violet gaze cold. Emptily, Lithuania's emerald eyes, which were normally filled with luster, but were now becoming cloudy, stared back.

"Promise me you'll never leave me…" Russia stated solemnly before placing a gentle kiss upon the other's forehead before pulling away to meet his blurred gaze. Lithuania barely heard Russia's words, for all senses were becoming dull. His mind felt slow, sluggish, as he struggled to take air into his body. He was choking quietly, thick, wet coughs escaping him as he tried to expel the blood from his throat. But, it was just too much, the exertion too great.

It was then that his mouth twisted to form what could have been called a smile, lips still dripping with essence and scarlet sin as they pressed themselves to Russia's. He couldn't speak, but the kiss said it all.

'I promise.'

It was then, as Russia watched the emerald eyes become clouded over with something darker than lust, confusion, and fear, his ragged breaths becoming slower and slower before finally stopping entirely, that he knew Lithuania had left him.


End file.
